Life or Something Close
by An-Jelly-Ca
Summary: Rewrite of Giving Up. Frank is slowly imploding, Vanessa is pregnant, Joe's trying to fix everything, and the world as they know it has been turned inside out. Sequel to the Revenge of the Nameless Man! R&R. Chapter 7 Up! warning: mentions of rape.
1. A Prologue of Sorts

**A/N This is the new modified and hopefully better version of Giving Up, I just didn't like the way the orginal was going and this is the result of heavy planning and revision. So, please review and let me know what you think despite this just being the prologue. I will also be rewriting ROTNM. It is not necessary to read ROTNM before reading this fic, especially since ROTNM is undergoing heavy revision.**

**Thanks to all those who reviewed the orginal GU and ROTNM.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**"To live is not breathing it is action." ~Jean-Jacques Rousseau**

Six months ago, he had been kidnapped. Six months ago, his life had been shattered. Six months ago, he had stopped living.

Everyday, he woke up, he showered, got dressed, and went to school, but it was mechanical to him, as involuntary as the process of breathing.

He only did it because he had to, because it was expected of him, and most of all, he did it because he was terrified that if he didn't, he would never be able to snap out of the depression that threatened to overwhelm him.

More then anything, Frank wished he could go back to the way things were before he had been kidnapped, more then anything, he just wanted everyone to stop looking at him with pity in their eyes, more then anything, he just wanted to be left alone… because it wasn't really any of their damn business.

Frank knew that he had become a shell of his former self. He knew that his family needed him to be okay. He knew they couldn't live if he wasn't. Still, he couldn't just pretend that the kidnapping hadn't happened.

It wasn't as if he could just wake up one morning, and have everything be okay, because this wasn't one of those small "childhood" things that always seemed a thousand times worse then it was. What he had gone through _was_ a thousand times worse then anything else that had happened to him.

For once, things didn't seem better in the morning. To him, morning was worse, because it was turning into what he liked to call _the aftermath._ In the morning, he woke up and realized that it wasn't a dream and that it all had really happened. He realized he was living in some sort of a limbo. Everything was worse in the morning, and he had come to dread waking up – almost as much as he dreaded going to sleep. Almost, but not quite, because every time he closed his eyes… he was back _there._

The only redeemable quality about _this _morning was that it was Saturday. Saturday was his favorite day of the week. His mother always volunteered, and his father was always busy with a case, no matter what day of the week it was, so he was left alone… well besides Joe.

Despite everything, Frank couldn't help but harbor the slightest bit of anger towards his brother. Anderson had made them distrust each other, and now the pain of thinking his brother had betrayed him was still there.

And yet? Joe was still the person he was closest to, because his brother seemed to be the closest person to understanding him… without really being able to. Because, really, _no one _could understand, but Joe always seemed to know what Frank needed.

When he wanted nothing more then to be alone; Joe kept his distance, and when he dreaded the very thought of being alone, being by himself, Joe was there. He didn't really think he would've even bothered continuing with his mechanical existence, if not for Joe.

He woke up every morning and continued his "sort-of" living but not really living for his brother, he did it because Joe needed him, and he could never abandon his brother, and in the end, it was probably the only thing that kept him sane.

He was willing to go on like this forever if it meant his brother got to go on, because Frank knew that as Joe kept him sane he was doing the same for his brother.

Vanessa Bender, Joe's girlfriend, was…. pregnant, and Joe knew that his brother was just barley managing to keep it all together. Their entire family was on the edge, and it was like if any one of them took one more step, they'd all fall off into a cliff.

It never ceased to amaze Frank how much their lives had changed. They were a picture perfect family, the American dream, so to speak. A mom, a dad, and two sons who made good grades, played sports and got along.

And then _it_ happened.

Sure, they'd been kidnapped before – but never this bad. Nobody had ever managed to cut to the heart of the family before, but Mark Anderson, he had waltzed into their lives and torn down their entire protection system, leaving them barely standing and completely on the edge.

Oh, yes, life had changed, and Frank wondered if they could ever manage to get back what they had, but deep down he truly doubted that things could _ever_ be the same.

There was no going back from what happened.

**A/N Review, please.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N I am finally updating this story. **

**Thanks to all Reviewers!**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters described herein other than the therapist.**

**"You can't run away from trouble. There ain't no place that far." ~Uncle Remus**

"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" The voice was carefully polite, interested, but not too prying.

Frank sat across from the woman in an armchair, his eyes darting around the room, seldom stopping to rest on her face. Dr. Jenna Williams was regarded as one of the best therapists in the business of dealing with traumatized teenagers, which Frank manifestly was _not_. He bounced his leg absently up and down out of nervousness or restlessness or some combination of the two. He abruptly stopped when he noticed her eyes briefly flicker in the direction of the offending limb.

"What do you want to know?" He said finally, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms in a defensive gesture.

"Tell me about school." She requested.

Frank's eyebrows drew together, puzzled by this choice of topic. The other therapists he had seen in the six months since he had...returned, had only been interested in talking about one thing, which of course, was the one thing Frank was unwilling to approach with a ten foot pole. He had been referred to Dr. Williams by his last therapist who had given up on him after several sessions of Frank refusing to answer any of her questions.

"School...is school, I guess." Frank answered.

"I understand you missed quite a bit last year?" She inquired.

"...I suppose." Frank answered flatly, the hard look in his eyes indicating that he would welcome no further inquiries from that corner.

"This is your senior year, correct?" She prompted.

"Yes."

"I understand you quit football?" She asked after glancing briefly at her notes. "Why is that?"

Frank's hands tightened on the arms of the chair and slowly loosened as he exhaled. "I felt like it." He replied after a long pause. What did she expect him to say? Did she want him to tell her how he couldn't bear the thought of changing in the locker room, or how he'd never be able to play football because he couldn't stand being touched and football involved way too much tackling for his tastes?

"I see." Dr. Williams said softly. "Why don't you tell me about your classes? What are you taking this year?" She didn't push the previous topic, for which he was grateful.

"I'm taking AP Chemistry, AP Calculus, AP English Literature, AP European History, AP Psychology, AP Statistics, and AP Computer Science." Frank rattled off.

"Wow, that is quite an undertaking."

"I guess."

"Do you have time for fun in that schedule?" She asked half-serious, half-laughingly.

"I have lunch." Frank answered with a shrug. "And Computer Science is fun, I guess."

"How are your classes going for you?"

His academics were perhaps the only arena in which Frank could honestly claim to find success in nowadays, not that he planned to tell her that. "I have straight A's." He informed her. He had a lot of time on his hands nowadays. That tended to happen when your entire life was going to hell in a hand basket, at least in his experience.

"That's quite impressive." Dr. Williams commended.

"I guess." Frank repeated.

"Why don't you tell me about your family?" She asked.

"What's to tell?" Frank asked.

Dr. Williams could see why the four other therapists Frank had seen in the past six months had experienced difficulties with him, he was remarkably good at avoiding the question. She knew something of his history from his parents and the other therapists, and she had received such details of his recent experience as they could provide. Frank had not opened up to any of them about the experience, and most of the information came from his brother, Joe, who had witnessed a lot of it.

"I have a mom, a dad, an aunt, and a brother." Frank said after a pause.

"I know." She replied. "Why don't you tell me about your brother?"

Frank could think of a million and one reasons why not, all starting and ending with the fact that he was perfectly well aware that she was trying to trick him into disclosing something about last year's debacle which he had no intention of revealing to her. "He's about a year younger than me, he's got blond hair and blue eyes." Frank said helpfully giving her a description she could have gotten out of her file.

"You two must be very close?"

"Yes or we were." He said and then silently cursed in his head for revealing too much.

"What happened?" She asked.

"We're still close." Frank answered.

"Something must have caused you to respond like that." She noted.

"We're still close...it's just we've both had a lot to deal with recently...and I haven't wanted to talk." Frank admitted.

"Uh-huh." She murmured. "Who have you been talking to Frank?" She asked. "You haven't opened up to any of the therapists you've seen, and I understand that you haven't wanted to talk to you family either." She stated.

Frank shuddered abruptly and shook his head. "I don't need any help."

"I think you do." She whispered. "This can be a safe place for you to open up." Dr. Williams suggested. "Everyone needs help sometimes, Frank, admitting that you do, doesn't make you weak it makes you smart."

"So I've been told." Frank answered. "But I don't need help." The protestation sounded weak even to his own ears. But then, he'd been weak so often lately why should this surprise him? "It doesn't due to dwell on the past." He said finally.

"True." She acquiesced. "But, it also doesn't due to run from your problems. Sooner or later you will have to face up to the past."

"I'm not running." Frank whispered, this at least was true, thoughts of his ordeal bounced wildly through his head, keeping him from any form of escape; no matter how far he attempted to run his thoughts would never leave him.

"Let me help you." Dr. Williams urged.

"I'm beyond help." Frank replied, and she could see a flicker of some emotion behind his eyes, helplessness, maybe? He was saved from further discussion by the shrill ring of the timer announcing that they were done for the day. "Goodbye, Dr. Williams." He said as he stood up.

"I'll see you the same time on Thursday?" She inquired.

"Yes." He said curtly striding over to the door and closing it behind him with a decisive click.

**A/N Review!**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N Hello, peoples. I'm really into updating this story right now for some reason, so yeah, here's another update.**

**Thanks to all reviewers!**

**Disclaimer: I own nada.**

**Dedication: To daisymall13 for her review. :)**

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**"If people do not believe that mathematics is simple, it is only because they do not realize how complicated life is. " ~John Louis von Neumann**

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Joe hovered indecisively outside his brother's open door for a few moments before speaking.

"Hey." He said awkwardly, resting his hand on the door knob.

His brother looked up briefly from the large stack of books piled on his desk. "Hey." He returned before turning back to his previous activity which seemed to involve taking copious notes out of his AP Euro book.

"What are you working on?" Joe asked.

"Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand awkwardly in the hallway?" Frank fired back, looking briefly amused. Joe grinned, a ghost of his usually megawatt smile, and entered the room. "You can sit here." Frank stood up and cleared an immense sheaf of textbooks, spirals, and binders off his spare chair and out of his brother's way before reclaiming his seat at his desk.

"So...what are you working on?" Joe repeated, chewing absently on his lower lip as he awaited his brother's response.

"Just taking some notes on the Reformation." Frank replied. "We've got a big exam on Friday." He explained as he lifted up his textbook in search of his history folder, he finally spotted it wedged under his Calculus text.

"What like Martin Luther and the 95 theses, that sort of thing?" Joe inquired.

"Mmmhmm." Frank confirmed as he turned a page in his book.

"Cool," Joe said awkwardly.

"I guess." His older brother assented. Frank continued to work in silence for ten minutes with no further interruptions from his brother who sat silently in his chair seemingly in search of something to say. Frank set aside his history book having finished with his note taking, and finally broke the silence by asking his brother to hand him his Psychology text book.

"So...uh, psych, I heard that's a good class." Joe noted as his brother began reading that night's assignment.

"I suppose so." Frank answered. "It's one of the most popular senior class choices. Have you selected courses yet?" He continued after a few moments, feeling a momentary pang that he didn't know what was going on in his brother's life.

"No, not yet." Joe answered. "We don't pick until January or something like that." The blond elaborated. "I think I want to take AP Psych though, I figure psych could be useful into getting into criminal's heads, you know?" Joe murmured.

They fell into awkward silence again as it occurred to them that neither of them had many attempt to solve any sort of case in the past half a year.

"What else are you going to take?" Frank prompted finally as he turned a page in his book.

"Well, I've got eight slots, right? So, I'll take AP Psych, Lunch, maybe Advanced Activities, I know we don't have to take P.E. senior year but I've always liked it, uh, I think I'll take AP Bio, I think I'll probably quit math."

Joe had never been fond of math, which he considered to be the bane of his existence, unlike his brother who considered it to be his favorite subject. There was something about the simple black and whiteness of math that Frank had always liked. With math there was a right answer and a wrong answer and not a whole lot in between.

"So, that's four classes right? And, I need another four. Hmm, I'll probably take AP Lit," Joe had always been fond of English which was possibly his best subject. "I think I'll take Auto, AP Econ and then maybe AP Gov, Biff's planning to take that, plus coach teaches it..." Joe trailed off awkwardly. "Oh, uh...yeah, coach is sorry you quit the team, by the way. We got totally crushed last weekend, he said we're all turning in to a bunch of pansies without you, not that it's your fault." Joe hastened to reassure his brother.

Frank loudly closed his psychology book not choosing to respond to his brother's comments.

"Dinner time." Their mother's voice sounded up the stairs. Joe rose from his chair and headed to the door.

"Aren't you coming?" He asked his brother, lingering uncertainly by the door.

Frank, who was now immersed on his Calculus homework looked up briefly to answer his brother. "I'm not hungry, tell mom I'll get some dinner later if I get hungry."

Joe frowned but didn't argue with his brother. "I'll tell her." He said softly.

"Could you shut the door on your way out?" Frank requested.

"Sure." Joe answered walking out and shutting his brother's door behind him with a quiet click.

Frank ran both hands through his hair and stared up at the ceiling and heaved a heavy sigh before turning back to his derivatives. His life was in shambles, he didn't know what to say to his brother, but hey, at least the math made sense.

**-Scene Jump-**

"Where's your brother?" Laura Hardy inquired of her youngest son when he seated himself at his usual spot at their dining room table.

"Not hungry." Joe answered.

Laura frowned at this response and exchanged a significant glance with her husband.

"He said he'll grab dinner later if he gets hungry." Joe offered as his aunt tutted her disapproval.

"Thank you for relaying the message, dear." Laura said absently. The meal passed in relative silence, as so many of their dinners did now a days, other than a few remarks ventured by Laura about the string of warm weather they'd been having, odd for this point in October.

Joe ate quickly and was soon heading back up the stairs to his room. His brother's door remained tightly closed, but he could see a sliver of light through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. Joe continued past his brother's room and swung open the door to his own bedroom and flopped down on his bed.

**A/N Review!**


	4. Chapter 3

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**A/N Hello, people, new chapter update, woot! I will be working on the next chapter of I Used to Know Him now, and then I will finish the next chapter of A Family Affair, for those of you who read either of those two stories as well as those.**

**Thanks to all Reviewers!**

**Dedication: To daisymall13 for her review.**

**Disclaimer: An-Jelly-Ca does not own these characters other than the psychiatrist(s). **

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**The _healthy_ and _strong_ individual is the one who asks for help when he needs it. Whether he's got an abscess on his knee or in his soul. ~Rona Barrett**

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"I'm glad you were willing to sit down and talk with me." Dr. Emily Henrickson greeted her newest patient, ushering him into her office. "I'm sure you know that Dr. Williams recommended that you speak with me?" She inquired in a pleasant voice.

"Yes." Joe confirmed allowing her to guide him into a chair. She seated herself in the available chair across from his.

"She thought-as do I-that it could be helpful for you to talk to someone, I understand that you have not spoken to a therapist since last year's ordeal?" She asked softly.

"No, I haven't." He murmured. "I've been busy, you know?" Joe asked, absently tapping his fingers in a staccato pattern against the arm of the chair.

"I understand." Dr. Henrickson reassured him. "I've received such details of last year's incident as were available in the public domain, as well as those details your parents were willing to give me when we spoke on the phone. And, from what I've heard believe me, I can understand that you've been busy." She told him kindly. "But, you need closure too, Joe, I know that you're concerned for your brother, and your girlfriend, but the first step toward moving past the events as a family, is moving past them as an individual. You need to understand and accept what happened and its effects on _your_ life."

Joe looked down at his hands and found that they were shaking slightly, he clenched them in to fists in order to stop the tremors. "I just want to make this okay for my brother."

"You two must be very close." She said sympathetically.

"We are," Joe affirmed. "But, lately, I can't get through to him." He admitted in a frustrated tone, raking a hand through his hair. "I want to help him, but he won't talk to me. He won't talk to anyone."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Frank has always been a private person, but up until now I've always known what he's thinking. Normally, Frank is the one trying to hold everyone else together, he's always there to listen to everyone's problems, but he never wants to accept help for his own."

"That must be frustrating." Dr. Henrickson noted.

"You have no idea," Joe said dryly. "I'm also not entirely sure what to say to him..."

"What do you mean?" She asked watching as his eyes darted around the room and his fingers repeated their incessant tapping.

Joe looked uncomfortable and seemed to struggle for a way to get out the words without actually being forced to say them out loud. "He was raped..." Joe whispered brokenly. This phrase had not been uttered in the Hardy house once, people referred to it as the Incident, or the Ordeal, or any other available phrase that could be used to avoid saying the words out loud. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that." He said finally.

"What do you want to say?" She asked.

"I don't _know_!" Joe said angrily. "If I knew then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"What do you want to tell your brother?" Dr. Henrickson repeated, her hazel eyes locking on Joe's blue ones.

"I guess, I want him to know that I'm here for him, and I want to tell him to stop blaming himself, because I know he is, blaming himself that is, and it frustrates me so fucking much, because it was _not_ his fault. Not that he can admit that." Joe said after a long pause.

"Tell him."

"What?"

"Tell him." She repeated insistently.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

_Why not?_ The phrase echoed in Joe's head, repeating over and over again, taunting him, reminding him of the many ways in which he had failed to help his brother. "...I don't want to upset him." Joe admitted in a quiet tone.

"See, that is a huge part of the problem, you and very likely the rest of your family are all tip-toeing around your brother, and the problem with that is that you're only hurting yourselves, and more than that you're allowing him to continue to avoid the issue." She said in a clear tone. "If your brother is going to heal, he's going to need to learn to confront what happened to him, and tiptoeing around the fact that he was raped-" She continued resolutely onward, ignoring Joe's flinch. "will not help _any_ of you." She paused for a few moments. "And, so I say to you, Joe, _tell him_."

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**A/N Review! Side note: For those of you who have actually read the Revenge of the Nameless Man, there are many parts of the original that I don't like, I am in the process of rewriting it. As part of that rewrite, I'm thinking about cutting the part where I made Callie bad, and eliminating Nancy from the story...what would be your opinion on that?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Hello, everyoneeeeeeeee. **

**Thanks to All Reviewers!**

**Dedication: To iMuseD for her review. :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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_"Sometimes it's worse to win a fight than to lose." ~Billie Holiday_

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The Hardy household was largely silent, of course it was very often silent at least in the past few months. Some of the life which had bubbled throughout the house filling it with vibrancy had disappeared. Right now the silence was more due to the fact that no one besides Frank was currently home, and less to the any other factor. Fenton was away working on a case for the first time in awhile, the work he had taken recently had kept him close to home. Laura was volunteering at the hospital, and Gertrude was off somewhere, perhaps the store, perhaps visiting a friend, Frank couldn't be sure. Joe had football practice, although he should be home any minute now.

As though on cue just as Frank thought this the front door burst open and he heard his brother drop his backpack on the floor in the entryway. Less then a minute later, Joe arrived in the kitchen, where Frank was in the process of making a souffle. He had a habit of baking when he was upset. Needless to say, he'd been baking a lot recently.

At the moment he was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his AP Psychology book having put his souffle in the oven a short while ago.

"...Frank?" Joe asked and Frank realized that he'd been talking for a few seconds now without Frank having attended to what he was saying.

"What?" Frank asked after a moment.

"Can we talk?" Joe asked appearing slightly nervous.

"I guess." Frank replied, although he had a feeling that this conversation wasn't going to go anywhere he would like.

"I saw a counselor a few days ago," With an opening like that Frank's suspicions were officially confirmed, and his face hardened in warning, but his brother still plowed onward. "We talked about you." Joe added waiting for a response from his brother.

"Did you?" Frank asked coolly.

"Yes." Joe confirmed, anxiously dragging a hand through his hair. "It's not your fault, you know."

"Sorry?" Frank asked raising an eyebrow in response to his brother's seemingly random comment.

"The...the rape. It wasn't your fault." Joe said after struggling several times to force the words out.

Frank flinched backwards as though Joe had slapped him. No one had dared to voice the phrase aloud to him in the six months that he had been home. The timer on his souffle chose that moment to beep and Frank took it as a sign to ignore his brother as he walked across the kitchen and pulled the dessert out of the oven placing it on the counter top.

"Don't ignore me, Frank." Joe had followed him across the kitchen.

"Keep your voice down." Frank admonished him. "Souffles are very sensitive to sound, the extra vibrations can upset the air pockets and-"

Joe cut off his brother midway through his explanation of why silence was important for an effective souffle. "You need help. Let me help you."

"You're rubbish at cooking." Frank replied pointedly ignoring Joe's real meaning. "No offense."

"I'm not talking about the souffle, Frank." Joe replied flatly.

"_I_ am." The brunet emphasized.

"We've all tiptoed around you for months," Joe started only to be interrupted by his brother.

"Well, I'm sorry to have put you all out." Frank said heatedly.

"That's not what I meant." The blond exclaimed in a frustrated tone. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Everyone tells me that it's not my fault, but it's not that simple for me, okay? I couldn't fight back, or I tried and failed, and on some level that's my fault. And, you all just keep telling me that it's not, but that's how I feel, okay, Joe? I can't just believe something because you tell me it's true." Frank burst out. "This is why I can't talk to any of you, you don't understand." With that he stormed over to the backdoor and yanked it open, slamming it shut behind him.

"I want to understand, I wish you would let me." Joe whispered to the empty kitchen. "That could have gone so much better." He muttered to himself, turning around to spot his brother's now deflated souffle. "Yep, that _definitely_ could have gone better.

**A/N Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N I have returned with an update! Hello, peoples. :)**

**Thanks to All Reviewers!**

**Dedication: to Moonhera for their lovely review. :D**

**Disclaimer: I own nada.**

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_Bad is never good until worse happens. ~Danish Proverb_

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"Hi, sweetie," Laura Hardy greeted her youngest son absently upon walking through the door into the kitchen having returned from her day's volunteer work at the hospital. She froze on catching sight of his face. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Joe mumbled.

"Problem at school?" His mother continued on completely ignoring his response. "Football?"

"No." Joe replied.

"Fight with Vanessa?"

"Things with Van and I are the same as usual, her mom won't even let me see her," Joe muttered.

"Andrea will cool off eventually," Laura replied. "She's just upset, understandably so, considering that her teenage daughter is pregnant, that's not exactly something parents get over quickly."

It went unspoken that the only reason why Joe's own parents had gotten past it so quickly was that considering the state of affairs concerning their eldest son, Joe getting Vanessa pregnant was the least of their worries.

"I know," Joe replied.

"What's wrong then?" She repeated.

"Frank and I got into a bit of an argument," Joe admitted.

"You know he doesn't mean to get angry at you, Joe, he's just…" Laura trailed off uncertain of how exactly to explain her eldest son's state of mind.

"I know," Joe replied with a grimace.

"Where is he now? In his room?" Laura questioned.

"Uh, he actually stormed out." Joe mentioned with a wince.

His mother froze, and seemed a little afraid, ever since what had happened neither Fenton nor Laura were keen on either of their children, especially Frank wandering off alone. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Generally when people are storming off dramatically they don't stop to say where they're going." Joe pointed out.

"There's no need to be sarcastic, Joe." Laura said sternly.

"I'm sorry, it's just that-"

"I know," she replied grimly. "Do you think he took his phone?"

"He didn't." Joe answered. "I tried calling him; his phone is up in his room."

"How long has he been gone?"

"An hour and a half, maybe." Joe estimated.

"Maybe I should call your father."

"I'm sure Frank's fine, mom," Joe hurried to reassure her.

"I just worry about him especially after what's happened," Laura replied.

As if on cue the back door opened and Frank walked in. Both Joe and their mother froze at the sight of him.

"Don't bother to stop talking about me; I'm going to my room." Frank remarked in a cool tone heading for the stairs.

"I'm going to go cook dinner, your aunt's friend is sick so she is staying with her for a few days to help out," Laura informed Joe with a sigh when Frank had disappeared from sight . "Why don't you go work on your homework? I'll call you when dinner is ready."

Joe picked up his backpack from where he had set it when he had first come home from football practice and headed for the staircase.

His brother's room was shut tightly; the only sign that someone resided inside it was the light that leaked into the hallway from the scant few centimeters between door and floor. Joe stopped outside the door and contemplated whether he should try to talk to his brother. On the one hand, he really did want to make things right with Frank, to try to get his brother to understand his view. On the other hand, he sort of doubted that Frank was ready to listen to him, and figured that attempting to talk to him right now would only worsen the situation.

Joe sighed and made his way further down the hall and into his own bedroom.

He spent almost an hour working on his homework before his mother's voice shouted up the stairs that it was time for dinner. When Joe walked past his brother's room on his way back downstairs the door was still firmly shut and he saw no signs that his brother had any intention of leaving it anytime soon.

"Where is your brother?" Laura asked when she saw that Joe had come down the stairs by himself.

"In his room," Joe answered with a shrug. "I don't think he's coming down."

Laura sucked in a lungful of air and let it out with an audible whoosh, "I've had just about enough of this." She said more to herself then to Joe, and leaving her son standing in the kitchen made her way up the staircase. She knocked firmly on her son's door and waited for an answer.

"Go away, Joe." Frank's voice answered.

"It's not Joe," Laura called back. She heard rustles of movement inside the room and after a few seconds her son pulled open the door.

"Mom," Frank greeted in a flat tone. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"It's dinnertime, Frank." Laura replied.

"I'm not hungry." Frank answered already turning back to one of his textbooks.

"Yes, well, you need to eat, and you need to stop spending all your time locked up in your room," Laura answered firmly. "We just want to help you." She added in a softer tone.

Frank didn't answer.

"I expect you to join us for dinner." She said finally disappearing through the door.

Frank stared blankly after her for a few minutes before following after her out of the room.

Dinner was a tense affair that night. It was just Frank, Joe, and Laura with Fenton being on a case, and Gertrude at her friend's house. Conversation was lacking to say the least.

Frank and Joe sat across from each other, with Laura at the head of the table. Frank kept his eyes fixed on his plate while Joe kept sneaking glances at his brother whenever he thought the other teenager wouldn't notice.

Laura attempt to elicit conversation from both of them, but she didn't manage to get more then disjointed bits and pieces from Joe and noncommittal shrugs from Frank.

Frank excused himself from the table after eating less than half of the food on his plate, and Joe followed soon after that leaving their mother alone to contemplate what had become of their family in so short a period as six months.

**A/N Review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've updated. College has kind of taken over my life, I am on break now though, so I am able to update. **

**Thanks to all Reviewers!**

**Dedication: to Moonhera for her awesome review. :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

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**"The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence." ~Sylvia Plath, _The Bell Jar_**

"You seem upset," Dr. Williams noted carefully. Of course, she knew that Frank was upset most of the time she spoke with him, but on this particular day there was something in his demeanor that indicated he was having a worse day than usual.

Frank shrugged his shoulders lightly in response, and she didn't notice how he failed to meet her eyes. He had developed a habit of staring her down when he was feeling particularly obstinate, he only avoided her gaze when he was particularly trying to avoid telling her anything, although ironically these had been the occasions where he had let the most information slip.

"Is it your brother?" She asked and received an answer in the form of the brief look of incredulity that flashed across his face. "Did you have a fight with Joe?"

He shrugged again. "Not really."

"What does that mean, Frank?" Dr. Williams pried gently.

"It means that I was disinclined to acquiesce to his request." Frank answered bitterly.

"Fan of Pirates of the Caribbean?"

Frank blinked abruptly at the change of pace. "I suppose so." He admitted warily.

"Me too," She agreed easily. "It's one of the better popular films in recent years."

Frank cast a sideways glance at her, clearly confused by her method of psychology. "They're making a fourth one, you know." He said after a pause.

"I heard, it's a bit unfortunate that Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightly won't be in the next one, but I'm sure it will still be good." She said with a nod. "Does your brother like the movies as well?"

Frank stiffened but didn't seem to see any particular harm in answering the question. "Yeah, he does."

"You guys probably have a lot in common, being so close in age," Dr. Williams mused.

"Sometimes," Frank replied ambiguously. "We don't always see eye to eye."

"Is that why you fought with him? Because you don't see eye to eye?"

Frank leaned back in his chair, silently sort of impressed, because this woman was clearly a lot better at her job than the other therapists he had spoken to. "You could say that."

"Is there anything in particular on which you don't agree?" Dr. Williams wondered, careful not to sound too prying.

"Well, I like the Mets, and he's always been a Yankees fan." Frank replied with a shrug. "He also hates math, whereas I've always considered math to be my favorite subject."

"Why is it that you like math so much?"

"I like how everything turns out so perfectly, how if you know the rules, you get the right answer." Whether Frank knew it or not he had just provided the therapist with important information.

"Do you feel like life has been unfair to you, Frank?" It was pushing a little bit past where they had gone so far in their sessions, but she knew she would have to at some point. "Because you follow the rules and you still got hurt?"

He looked away again, but before he did she saw something in his face, and it was clear that she was correct in her assessment.

"I want to go now." Frank replied stonily.

"We still have thirty minutes left of our session," Dr. Williams pointed out.

"I don't care." Frank shot back.

"These sessions are for you, Frank, if you don't want to talk about something, than we don't have to, we can talk about something else, whatever you want." She hastened to reassure him.

"Maybe I don't want to talk at all, no one seems to consider that do they?" Frank exclaimed in a heated tone.

"I understand-"

"Actually you don't understand, none of you understand, and I'm sick and tired of being told how I feel by a bunch of people who have no idea how I feel." Frank interrupted.

"Why don't you tell me how you feel?"

"Because I don't want to talk about it, isn't that what I just said?" He asked. "Do you know what it's like? I live those months in my head over, and over again, and the memories won't stop, and it's bad enough that I have to relive them in my head, without outlining them for other people." His voice broke, and he seemed to realize that he had said more than he intended to, because his mouth snapped shut with an audible click. "I want to go _now_." Frank stood up as he said it and swiftly strode towards the door.

"I'll see you on Tuesday," She said quietly.

**A/N Review!**


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